


Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree

by fraufi666



Category: 1984 - George Orwell
Genre: Alternate Ending, Brainwashing, Dystopia, Interrogation, M/M, Male Slash, Nudity, Psychological Torture, Romance, Sexual Content, Suspense, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-01-16
Packaged: 2018-03-07 18:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3179471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fraufi666/pseuds/fraufi666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winston Smith is imprisoned in the Ministry of Love for committing acts against the party, especially for having an affair with a fellow party member, Julia. Upon seeing a colleague and friend, O’Brien, Winston undergoes a series of interrogations.  However, through this ordeal Winston discovers that he has incriminating feelings for someone else, much closer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FollowTheFirefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FollowTheFirefly/gifts), [jaded_and_restless](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaded_and_restless/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I have written two alternative endings to this story, listed under different chapters. There is no real ending. Readers will be allowed to choose whichever one they would like to read. Either chapter continues on from this first part, entitled “Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree”. The first ending, entitled “For the Love of Big Brother” is a much sadder, tragic ending, rather similar to the Orwellian story. The second ending, “The Golden Country” on the other hand, has a much happier outcome. As a result it ends rather differently to the story it is based from. 
> 
> The characters and most of the main ideas of this story are inspired by George Orwell’s novel 1984. I do not take credit for these main concepts; except for the renditions I have written myself. I would like to thank those who have supported me and offered ideas throughout this writing process.

Pain was the only thing running through Winston Smith's mind as he lay on the floor of a dirty prison cell. He had encountered so many beatings that he could not even remember what it was like to be painless. He assumed that he was in the Ministry of Love, but there was no way to confirm it for there were no windows. From his discomfort, he might have been there for hours…days…even weeks. He did not even want to think about it. 

 Everything was slowly starting to come back to him; the last time he was with Julia in Mr Charrington's shop, to the abrupt encounter of the Thought Police. After being snatched away from the arms of the woman he loved, he wanted to scream and to fight them, fight the party, but he was unable to. How long had he been without her?

 But the thought disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. The pain was beginning to intensify until after a while it subsided. Even though he was meant to feel worried and concerned about what Julia was going through, he was still focussed on the pain that swept over his body, deep in his gut and his head. Suddenly, he thought of O'Brien and the way the Inner party member had promised him one thing which still lingered in the deep recesses of his thoughts. 

  _We will meet in a place where there is no darkness._

The lights had been on, all day and night, which made it impossible to distinguish between the different periods of time. It was merely the heaviness in his eyelids which guided him to sleep, and the sharpening pain to rouse him. But perhaps it was possible that they would meet again, very soon…if he had been the man of his word. He knew that party members did not save each other, but he assumed that he would send him the razor blade. Winston had thought about asking the other prisoners in the cell for one, but they were constantly arriving and leaving, perhaps to the dreaded room one-oh-one. 

 He did not know what this room would hold, for he only heard it mentioned in hurried whispers, eyes peering in terror. Right now, he had to endure the immense pain he was going through, hoping that he could survive at least another day. As tempting as an escape was, he was also not keen about dying with so many unanswered questions in his head about the party that placed him here. The razor blade would have to wait for now. 

 As if he had read his mind, a familiar figure had entered into the room. Winston looked up, seeing O'Brien's eyes coldly addressing him from behind his spectacles. He jolted back in surprise. 

 "You're here?" Winston gasped.

 "I have always been here, Winston." O'Brien responded as a matter of fact. "You knew that this would happen to you, did you not? I promised you that we would meet here."

 Of course. Winston had been aware of this fact. He knew that his time had come. He was doomed and had been doomed right from the beginning. 

 But before he could say another word, he noticed a truncheon from the corner of his eye. Had there always been someone that was standing nearby that he did not know? He was just about to turn around when the truncheon loomed forward, his back shaking in pain and Winston falling onto the floor. Numerous boots kicked at him, causing his body to writhe in agony. Yet throughout the whole ordeal, he could feel O'Brien's presence, a small blessing in a cursed world of pain. 

 Winston did not know how long the beatings lasted, but he knew that he had passed out for quite a while as he realised that he was lying on a bed. A couple of men in white coats attended to his aid, but they could have easily been an illusion. But the one thing that still remained real was the figure that sat by his bed the whole time, watching him. A hand rested on his cheek, stroking his face gently while at the same time a low whisper lingered in his ear.

  _I will save you Winston. Do not worry. I will make you perfect. Sleep now._

It was such a blissful moment and he had wanted to look up, just to confirm that O'Brien was there, but sleep had taken over his spirit and he closed his eyes, as if obeying to the voice. Yet it was short-lived, for once Winston had awoken he was on the floor of the prison cell again, surrounded by black boots and angry barks which ordered him to confess to everything, even to crimes he had not committed. He did not care if he was signing documents which told him that he had committed treason, or that he was in charge of anti-party organisations, like that of Goldstein. Anything was better than facing the pain again. He screamed as he felt his insides being pounded and sensitive areas kicked mercilessly. Winston was certain that even the pain alone was going to kill him, but he was still alive and was taken back to the bed where he was nursed and caressed. Winston felt a hand touch his hair and tried to look but could barely move.

  _Relax Winston. There is no need to worry. You are in my protection now. I will cure you._

There was that voice again. He was certain it was O'Brien, but he could not check. Everything had hurt too much, as if there were a thousand daggers plunged into his body. If he had moved only a fraction, there would be a stabbing pain, chiding him to stay still. 

 The next time he had awoken, O'Brien was standing before him. To one side was a dial, yet Winston was not sure what purpose it had served. 

 "I told you we would meet again." O'Brien said. It looked as if his hand was on the lever of the dial, but Winston was too far away to tell. "Now tell me, why do you think you are here?"

 "To confess." replied Winston quickly, his eyes still on the dial. He felt an electric current pass through his body and writhed in pain. 

 "No!" O'Brien shouted. But his face cleared and he had reverted to the patient school-masterly manner that was so characteristic of him. "Try again."

 "Because I committed Thought Crime." Winston answered shakily. _It had to be the reason_ , thought Winston. _Surely_. Anything was better than the pain. 

 Another stronger current passed through him. Winston felt as if every bone in his body would break if it had continued. He looked at O'Brien pleadingly "Please…stop! Stop the pain!" 

 "Your condition seems to be more serious than we had thought."  The older man said clinically, ignoring Winston's pleas. "I have to make you better." With that, he pulled the lever, causing an inhuman shriek to come from him. Winston tried to move out of the chair, to stop the dial, but he was unable to move. 

 "I know what you are thinking…" O'Brien said calmly "You are trying to escape. You want me to stop. But I can't, Winston. This was your own doing. I promised to cure you and this is what I will do. Tell me, Winston, what does 2 and 2 make?"

 The numbers came to his mind quickly, the equation ending in four.

 "Four."

 Winston cried out in pain. He did not even realise that the dial could go any higher. The current was probably cracking his ribs now. 

 O'Brien held up his hand, the thumb concealed "Tell me again, Winston. How many fingers do you see?"

 "Four! I only see four!" 

 O'Brien turned up the voltage. Winston was breathing through his teeth heavily, shaking in fear and discomfort. 

 "Your mind is playing tricks on you, Winston. You have been against the party for so long that you even refuse to believe the logic it pertains to." 

 Winston was whimpering "But two and two make four! What else could they make? That _is_ logic." 

 O'Brien had shifted in front of him quickly, glaring at him, eyes bright in fury. Yet his voice was still so calm. "No, it is not. Winston, you are mistaken. _Gravely_ mistaken." He turned up the voltage, watching Winston cry out helplessly, his face completely emotionless. Perhaps he did not feel sympathy for his victim, or he was far too used to torturing people. A tear fell from Winston's eye and for a moment it looked as if O'Brien was going to shout at him again. He raised a hand as if to strike him and Winston closed his eyes out of instinct.

 But the hand fell gently on his cheek. Winston continued to sob uncontrollably at the contact. Even though he was being tortured, he felt so safe in O'Brien's grasp, as if just that gesture was enough to save him completely. 

 "You are so naive." O'Brien sighed, as the hand stroked Winston's face. "Rest assured, I will help you, even if it takes me longer than all of the other prisoners. I will set everything right." 

 Winston must have fallen asleep for a long time; for once he had woken up he was lying in his bed. He felt a hand running through his hair, and a cool cloth put to his forehead. But he was too weak to open his eyes. There was only one word that came to mind as he felt the brief moment of comfort. 

  _O'Brien._

"I am right here, Winston." A voice said quietly. It was so close, as if it were whispering in his ear. He could have easily imagined it. "There is no need to wake up, not yet. Save your strength and we will talk later." 

 Winston closed his eyes, and was immediately transported to a lush field, illuminated by golden light. He could feel someone touching him on the shoulder, but he was not sure whom it was and he could not turn around to see. But he did feel safe, so safe. It was like nobody would ever get to him, not the party, not Big Brother, not anyone. He was free, and it was glorious. 

 

 But when he did wake up, he was back in the dirty cell, surrounded by heavy black boots. The dream in the golden country was all too good to be true. Before he could fully reflect, Winston was punched, kicked and hit at for a long period of time. It could have been minutes, even hours, yet there was no clock in sight. Winston screamed as his vision was filled with nothing but the endless pitch ebony of the boots. 

 Once he did recover, he was in the room with O'Brien again and the dreaded dial. He struggled to open his eyes properly, for they were bruised and swollen from the beatings. 

 "Now I have to ask you more questions." O'Brien said. "Tell me, how many fingers am I holding up?"

 Winston just saw a blur in front of him. But he could still make out the fingers. "I don't know..it still looks like four. But it can be five. I don't know." 

 O'Brien shook his head, and once again Winston shook in response to the current. 

 "Try harder!" O'Brien demanded, raising his voice. He shoved his hand directly in front of the younger man's eyes. "What do you see? What do you see Winston?"

 Winston was stammering, still recovering from the voltage. But O'Brien grew impatient and pulled the lever. 

 "That is not good enough. Try again! Winston, tell me, and don't be difficult. How many do you see?"

 Winston could no longer tell. Several fingers danced past his vision. It could have been any number, but he could not figure it out for the life of him. 

 "I can see five, but six..But…I-I don't know. It could be twelve. It keeps changing, I can't concentrate." 

 O'Brien beamed, pleased with his response "Good. This is very good." He put a hand on his shoulder, comforting Winston instantly.  The battered man breathed a sigh of relief, close to falling asleep, but was nudged. 

 "Now Winston, this isn't over yet. We must revisit the place where you had committed your most serious offence to the party, a place where insanity had overtaken you."

 Winston winced as he raised his eyebrows in confusion. "W-where?"

 O'Brien merely smiled in response "You know this place very well. It was the last place you were in before you got arrested. Of course, I had been meaning to capture you for a while, but this, this betrayal against the party was just the right moment to send you here. It proved everything that you had against the party." He took his hand firmly, gripping it tightly through rough fingers "Do you trust me, Winston?"

 Winston gazed back at O'Brien blankly, frightened that his answer would be incorrect. He did not even know what was right or wrong anymore. 

 "I.."

 O'Brien stared at him deeply behind his glasses "Winston, please answer the question. Tell me, deep in your heart. What do you feel? I remember you once wrote in your diary that you trusted me, that you saw me as a friend. That you can talk to me. I feel the same way too, and I like talking to you. Do you still believe in that?"

 Winston swallowed "Yes." He answered finally. The way the other man had stared at him so intently gave just the slightest hint of sadness. It could have been the trickery of the light on his lenses, but his heart skipped a beat as he saw what was the most human side of O'Brien, perhaps more human than he had seen in a long time. Everything suddenly made sense. He had spent time with Julia, he had been wildly attracted to her, but he was most affected by O'Brien. The answer was right in front of him the whole time, just as O'Brien's fingers once were. That time he had spent with Julia, in the field to the room above Charrington's shop, seemed to flit by as passing thoughts, memories which carried little weight. But when he saw the look in O'Brien's eyes, it was as if he had seen them his whole life. The man was ruthless, cold, even a monster. But behind that, he had cared for him, and supported him as his wounds killed him. It was he who really did sit by his bedside every time he was beaten. 

 After what had seemed like a full minute, everything had dawned on him. He did not love Julia. He had never loved Julia. She was what he had used against the party. He had really loved O'Brien and Big Brother.  

 "I trust you." Winston breathed. There was an even deeper emotion that he felt over trust that he had wanted to utter. But he could not bring himself say it, in case this gave away another weakness of his that O'Brien could seize to destroy him. 

  _Love_

O'Brien's fingers stroked Winston's weak one. "I know what you feel for me." The man uttered "And I do too, Winston. Our bond is deeper than even the party itself." Saying this, he leaned closely to Winston's face, their eyes locked. Then, his lips met Winston's bruised ones and he kissed him gently, feeling the prisoner tremble, wanting so badly to return the gesture but being far too weak. His lips fumbled clumsy against O'Brien's, but that did not seem to bother the Inner Party member. The older man's caresses were expertly done, fulfilling every desire that Winston had deep within himself that he did not know before. After he had pulled away, Winston was suddenly aware of the absence of O'Brien's touch. He needed him more than ever and he was frightened that he would leave him to be beaten again. 

 "I..I love you." Winston murmured, gripping a hand against O'Brien's sleeve. "Please, don't leave me. I understand what I did was wrong. I betrayed you. I betrayed my feelings for you and for Big Brother. Please…please stay."

 The older man gave a small smile. "If you still trust me, you will know that I will not leave you. Nobody will ever leave you, Winston If I help you enough, you will always be with the party, with me and with Big Brother. These will be the only things that will remain, for they are the only things that matter." 

 He pulled away from Winston finally and reached into his pocket to produce a long, thin piece of black fabric. "This treatment will help you, Winston. Will you do it? Are you willing to get better again?"

 "Yes." Winston said in determination. "Yes, I want to get better." 

 Winston had no idea what the fabric was for, but he did not protest as the man placed the material over his eyes and tied it up behind his head. For about an hour, he felt himself being transported, but he did not know where or why. He wanted to take the blindfold off, but he could feel O'Brien's hand on his shoulder as he shifted his hand slightly. 

 "You have to trust me, Winston. This is all the part of the treatment." A stern voice said, the hand still on him. 

 Finally, after a while he had arrived at his destination, for O'Brien had left his side and was standing in front of him. "You can remove your blindfold now." He instructed. 

 Nothing had prepared Winston for what he was about to see. 

 After Winston had removed the blindfold, he was standing in a familiar room, which had brought back so many warm memories and happiness, yet it was also the last place he had been in before his downfall. He turned to O'Brien, perplexed as to why they were in this place of all places. 

 "You are wondering why I have taken you to the room above Mr Charrington's shop." O'Brien said, reading his very thoughts. He walked closer, "But you should know very well why I did take you here."

 "I don't understand..." Winston began. Why were they back in a place where he had committed a crime against the party? Nothing made sense.

 O'Brien placed a hand on his "This place was very important to you." He explained "So important, that I want you to relive your time there. I want you to re-experience what it was like for you to go against the party. I want you to show me how this place was so special."

 Winston's expression turned from confusion to shock "Y-you want me to recommit a crime? But I've done everything you want!" He cried, "I've confessed, I've been beaten. What more can I do for you?" But his heart began to thump fiercely as he realised what O'Brien's intentions were. And it was not out of anger. 

 

A hand trailed to Winston's chest as his eyes regarded him patiently. There was a small smile as the Inner party member felt the quick, lovesick beats of an uncertain heart. "Do you not love me, Winston? I thought we had trusted each other." 

 Winston could not pull away. His heart yearned for O'Brien and the other man knew it. "I do love you, O'Brien." Winston said, his hand instinctively on the hand on his chest.

 "Then show me."

 Winston tried to remove his overalls, but with little success. O'Brien was suddenly there, helping him. After removing his glasses, he took off his own clothes with a flourish, almost like the way Julia had in his dream a long time ago. But this was not the delicate, pale body of Julia that he was used to. It was a large body with scars, one that had been through much hardship in his whole life. Winston wondered what O'Brien had really gotten into to receive such hideous wounds. He reached out to touch him, but the other man moved away. 

 "I do not want you to pity me, Winston. You can love me but never, never pity me." O'Brien responded. He took Winston's outstretched hand to kiss it, before planting a line of kisses up his arm. Afterwards, their lips met again, and Winston was able to finally kiss him back with more vigour than before. As the kiss grew tenser, Winston felt his body wake up. He was only too aware of how long his body had been without another person's touch. But this one had overwhelmed his senses and he succumbed to it instantly. 

 O'Brien led him to the bed, running his hands over him in all of the right areas that his body had craved. The interrogator was a lot gentler with him than expected and never before did Winston think that O'Brien was capable of the actions of a lover. Yet there was something which caused him to pause.

 It was a distant hum at first. Perhaps it was the telescreen that was behind the picture. Winston pulled back in horror, frightened that they were being discovered, but O'Brien took his head in his hands, reassuring him. 

 "It is okay, Winston." O'Brien said calmly. The hum ceased as soon as he started talking "The party does not mind the education of prisoners." The humming continued afterwards and Winston later on realised that it was O'Brien who was humming a tune. As he traced his fingers against his back, he started to sing a low quiet song. The hairs on the back of Winston's neck stood up. The song was so familiar…but where had he heard it from?

  _Under the spreading chestnut tree_

_I sold you, and you sold me_

After they had come together in each other's arms, Winston fell against the pillow and closed his eyes. O'Brien stroked his hair as he sung the concluding lines of the song. 

_There lie they, and here lie we,_

_Under the spreading chestnut tree._

In that moment, Winston had felt more safe and warm than he had ever felt in his whole life. O'Brien was right. Nothing else had mattered to him except for this. 


	2. For the Love of Big Brother (Alternative ending)

Winston had woken up with a start. O'Brien was already dressed and was holding onto the blindfold once more. His expression was emotionless, almost cold. It was as if nothing had ever happened between them. 

 "Get dressed at once." O'Brien ordered, bringing the overalls that were discarded the night before. "This is not over, Winston."

 Winston rubbed his eyes, confused. He reached out to touch O'Brien on the arm, but the Inner Party member moved his arm away, as if repulsed. 

 "We don't have a lot of time." O'Brien chided. As soon as Winston had dressed, O'Brien tied the blindfold over his eyes again. He only saw pitch-blackness for a long while. It was not easy to measure how much time had passed from travelling between the room and the Ministry of Love. He fell in and out of consciousness several times. 

 Finally, when the blindfold was removed, Winston was back in the interrogation room. O'Brien stood with his hand on the dial, waiting patiently for him.

 Winston looked at the Inner Party member in horror. "Why are you still doing this?" He asked him "I thought I was cured! I trust you O'Brien, what we shared together-"

 A current passed through him, causing him to shake and cry out. 

 "I thought you knew better than this, Winston." O'Brien said firmly, much to his disappointment "We need to work together to make you feel better. I cannot help you if you don't show a desire to improve."

 "But..I wanted-"

 O'Brien narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice "I do not make the rules, Winston. The party makes the rules. You knew this was going to happen. You knew it right from the start. Are you a traitor to the party, Winston?"

 "No, but-"

 The dial was turned up higher. Winston felt the air being sucked out of his lungs. O'Brien drew closer, scrutinising him behind his thick glasses as if he were an insect under a microscope "Are you a traitor to the party, Winston?" he repeated. 

 "No…" Winston answered hesitantly.

 O'Brien was still not convinced. In too much pain, Winston started shouting just to stop it all. 

 "YES!" He cried "Yes I am!" 

 O'Brien finally removed his hand from the lever. "Better." He placed an arm around his shoulders. "Admitting the problem is the first step to solving it, is it not?" Winston was too distraught to answer, his head downcast, sobbing for being treated so cruelly. It was as if the loving O'Brien from yesterday had never existed. Only a harsh interrogator was in front of him. He wanted so badly to see that O'Brien that he loved. 

 "How many fingers am I holding up, Winston?" He held up four fingers, the thumb tucked out of sight. Straight away, a vision of fleeting fingers appeared in front of him and he could only count the fingers that the party had told him. It was as if by instinct.

 "Five!" 

 "And if the party asks what two and two make, what do you say?"

 "Five." Winston answered, with the same tone of obedience. 

 There was a hint of a smile on his stern face. "Very good, Winston." O'Brien said in approval "You are getting better. But after I run this test a few more times, I will need to send you to room one-oh-one."

 Winston gaped in horror. He could stand for more torture, anything. But not room one-oh-one. Everyone seemed so frightened about it, and he had no idea what to expect. 

 "Please, don't send me there." Winston pleaded weakly. His voice barely raised above a whisper. "I do not even know what is in there."

 O'Brien merely gave him a reassuring smile before continuing, "You know what is in this room, Winston. Everyone knows what is in this room."

  _But what?!_ A voice cried out in Winston's mind. He felt so lost, so confused with what O'Brien had wanted to do to him. Was yesterday nothing but a game? 

 As if he had heard Winston's thought, O'Brien spun around to face him "You will find out what is in this room soon enough." 

 The next few days, or perhaps weeks, maybe months Winston was brought back to the upstairs room of the antique shop again. He was surprised but relieved that O'Brien had not forgotten about his love for him and they made love a few more times. After showering him with kisses and care, O'Brien would lull Winston to sleep with the same song and it filled his mind as he slept to when he was brought back to the Ministry of Love. Straight after making him feel safe and warm again, he would continually interrogate, causing Winston to scream in fear, admitting anything for the party and for the man he loved the most in the world. Sometimes he would hate O'Brien for making him so frightened and putting through so much pain, but these feelings would vanish through a simple caress against the cheek or a sweet, kind whisper in encouragement as he lay, trembling in pain so unbearable. 

 He recalled one day, or night in mid sleep when the same voice that sung to him and reassured him of saving him during the first stages of interrogation. The voice was very quiet, but full of so much calmness that Winston did not even feel the need to get up and see who the speaker was. Only one voice could ever make him feel so safe. 

_Beautiful_. The voice once whispered, as if it had kissed him on the cheek. 

Winston could have easily have imagined the voice. Nobody had ever spoken to him in such a way. Perhaps Julia did, once upon time. But it was like she was merely a brief destination he had stopped at during his long journey through life. He did not remember her so much anymore. He could not even remember her voice. Fleeting images of her dark hair, and that rebellious smile would come, but they left quickly. 

 Finally the time had come. O'Brien was standing before him in a room of white. It looked exactly like all of the other rooms that he had been inside within the Ministry of Love. Or perhaps they had never moved. Winston did not know and would never know how the architecture was structured. 

 "Do you know where you are, Winston?" O'Brien asked. 

 "Room one-oh-one?" Winston guessed, although there was a strong instinct inside him that they were there. There was something eerily different about the room, even though he could not detect it on the surface. It made his skin crawl, and the other man was quick to notice this. 

 "You are correct. Room one-oh-one is where the worst thing in the world is. You are on the last leg of your journey. Don't worry. It will all be over soon." 

 Despite putting a hand on his shoulder, Winston was trembling in his seat. O'Brien gazed into his eyes directly for a moment but there was not even the tiniest hint of concern or remorse. Nothing was going to prepare him for this. 

 Then he saw it.

 At the corner of the room was a table with an oddly shaped box sitting on top of it. There were holes all over it, as if to provide oxygen for whatever was inside. O'Brien took the box and brought it over. Winston heard a shuffling and cringed. He tried to wriggle out but was still strapped to the chair. O'Brien moved the box closer and unlatched one side of it. There was a squeaking and a strange gnawing noise, as if whatever was in there had not eaten food for several years. Winston's body broke out in sweat and he was furiously shaking his arms out of the restraint. 

 Rats. There were rats inside. The very objects of his deepest, darkest nightmares. 

 "Hold still." O'Brien demanded. Winston felt himself grow limp and relaxed. Gently, the interrogator strapped some contraption to his face and then attached the cage, which was now unlatched, to the man's face. The rats squealed and what had felt like a thousand of hairy bodies had crawled over his face. 

 "No! No!" Winston cried, feeling nauseous as he felt several tails caress his face "Get me out! Get me out!" But as this happened, he was silenced. The sensation had made him feel so sick, yet it reminded him of that loving touch that was by Winston's side after every interrogation. He could feel crawling down his back, as if many fingers running against his skin intimately. Everything in his vision had darkened, yet he was sure that perhaps the whole world had darkened around him. He was sobbing, but his body was beginning to tense as if they were back in that room once more. Or were they there the whole time? 

"Do this to Julia!" Winston screamed through tears "O'Brien. O'Brien hold me! You said we would meet in a place without darkness, but I can't see! I can't see!" The hand went to his shoulder. Several visions came to mind. It was as if everything came back, only it was not the same. Winston recalled a man and a woman standing side by side with a little girl. He thought they looked familiar but he could not remember who they were. Then he was in the Ministry of Truth, endlessly putting documents down the memory hole, and in the streets with the people, looking up at the large, glowing picture of a man's face. Everyone else around him was not important, but the man's face was, and he was the only one that he knew of in the whole street.

 "Please hold me." Winston continued to whisper, as something around his head was being unbuckled. "I love you, O'Brien. I love you! Down with Julia! Long live Big Brother!" The whole crowd around him cheered as he said this. Perhaps he was no longer whispering. He could have been shouting at the top of his lungs. "Long live Big Brother!" 

 Everything turned black.

 Winston opened his eyes, finding himself back in the room. No. This was not the room he was in before.  This was the one that he had spent time with Julia. Julia? The name did not seem to mean anything to him anymore. Was he transported during the interrogation or was he in this room the whole time?

 But as he stared around the room above Mr Charrington's shop, he was filled with such rage, such disgust. He felt like everything about it had repulsed him yet it was unclear. 

 Suddenly, a hand touched his back. He jolted but relaxed, realising it was O'Brien. He collapsed in his arms. O'Brien held him gently. 

 "Please, get me out of this room." He begged "I hate it here. It reminds me of something I did that was very wrong. I don't want to be here anymore. Take me somewhere, anywhere. Just not here."

 

 He was back in the Ministry of Love. O'Brien sat with him as his wounds were treated. He felt his face aching with so many bites, yet the other man held his hand, looking at him as if there was nothing wrong with his appearance. Winston could stare into his eyes all day and forget about everything else. O'Brien was truly his saviour, his lover. And he only wanted to cure him.

 In a matter of what had felt like days, Winston's face was fully recovered. He was no longer restrained to a chair. He could move his arms and legs freely. But he was so weak. After a long period of time, he would fall quickly as he tried to walk. Fortunately, he was offered good food and a chance to exercise. But in his recovery stage, he did not see O'Brien.

 Until, one last day.  

 O'Brien had come into the room, smiling at him in approval as he looked at this man's appearance. "You are looking a lot better now, Winston." He said, "Do you feel better?" 

 "Yes." Winston said in reply. Immediately, he laced his finger's with the other man's. O'Brien looked back at him as he did this. There were tears in Winston's eyes, for he felt that this was the last time they would see each other again.

 "I told you once that I will not leave you. From now on, you will remember the time we had spent together. You will remember Big Brother. You will remember the party. You are cured now." 

 Tears streaked Winston's cheeks and O'Brien managed to take his chin and tilted up his head to face him. "Do not fear, Winston. There is always escape. We will shoot you in the end." O'Brien said quietly. With that, he drew his face close towards his and they shared one last kiss, a small joy in a miserable world. He felt so much pain and yet so much pleasure as their lips locked. Never would Winston forget this moment. This would haunt him for the rest of his pitiful life.

 

 Epilogue:

 Winston sat listening to the numerous telescreens in the Chestnut Tree cafe. A waiter came to his side, refilling his glass of gin. Winston had not even bothered to count how many times the man had filled his glass, not that he had really cared. He took a swig at the glass, the disgusting taste burning his tongue. But he was dependent upon it. It had helped to maintain his sanity, the sanity that he had acquired after leaving the Ministry of Love. The drink had made him forget about all that has troubled him. He was able to work again, this time at a much higher paying job. The Thought Police did not check up on him, and if they did it did not seem like they had cared much for what he was doing. He was a cured man, a man for the party. Nobody was going to bother him again. 

 But as if being roused from a deep sleep, a tinny tune started to play from one of the telescreens as there was an advertisement break. He paused, dropping the glass in shock. It smashed loudly on the floor in several pieces, only reminding him of his own shattered state. 

  _Under the spreading chestnut tree_

_I sold you, and you sold me_

His heart thudded loudly in his ears as if those words had been sung by another voice, a more familiar one, which belonged to the man he had given himself to. It was as if O'Brien was standing behind him right now; about to place a hand on his shoulder, perhaps even to kiss him on the cheek. And nobody would care. Nobody would bat an eyelash or call for the Thought Police. It was this love that was acceptable by the party, for this was the love of the party. And it was here to stay. O'Brien was forever going to be in his mind. 

 All of the traumas that he had tried so hard to suppress by the gin were returning, painful but glorious traumas. He was being beaten all over again, yet every wound was kissed and caressed. His torture and pain was his joy and pleasure. Even though he was in so much agony, his heart was painfully pounding for the love of the one man he had cared about. He had not hated O'Brien for what he had done to him, nor the party. This was what had taught him to love. Another vision came to him where he was walking down the corridor, feeling so relieved to finally receive that bullet of a promised escape. It was passing through his head, whilst his mind was still so pure and his love still so strong.   
  


Tears fell from his eyes as he smiled up at the telescreens, all filled with the large mustached face of Big Brother. If he was always asleep, this was his moment of awakening, for O'Brien was the one who had opened his eyes. He had loved O'Brien, with all his heart, but most importantly he had loved Big Brother. 


	3. The Golden Country (Alternative ending)

For the first time in a long time, Winston could see what the Inner Party member had looked like in his most vulnerable form. O'Brien lay, still asleep with his glasses off. He had looked so much younger and less stern. It was as if he was another man. The sight was so endearing that Winston found himself running the back of his hand against his cheek. 

 But at that gesture, O'Brien woke up. Suddenly, the stern, frightening interrogator look filled his eyes as he pulled away. Perhaps this was in disgust, but the way he had done so appeared more like a machine. 

 "O'Brien?"

 Winston was surprise that the man was behaving this way. "What has changed, O'Brien? What has happened?" He still remembered that night they had spent together and the way he had lulled him to sleep so beautifully. But maybe the Inner Party member was beginning to regret their engagement. 

 "Get dressed. Do not ask me questions." O'Brien responded coldly, getting up and putting on his clothes. Winston weakly obeyed, knowing that the man had the power to torture him to death if he had the chance. Seeing the naked body of O'Brien no longer brought any desire. Rather, it made him feel guilt. He was committing an act against the party by having these feelings. 

 

 After being blindfolded, Winston found himself back at the Ministry of Love. He was strapped on the chair again and could not move. The dreaded dial was there once more and O'Brien stood directly in front of him, as if he were a patient teacher.

 "Now Winston. I am going to ask you more questions and I want you to answer truthfully. Where are we?"

 Despite his grogginess and disorientation, Winston remembered. "Oceania, of course."

 "Good. And who are we at war with?"

 This question required a little bit more concentration. "Oceania is at war with Eurasia. We have always been at war with Eurasia." 

 He felt a current pass through him and jolted. 

 "That is not correct. We are at war with Eastasia."

 Winston's face fell "No, that can't be. We have always been allies with them." 

 O'Brien shook his head. "You are still learning. History does not govern what we do. The past no longer exists. It is the party which governs us."

 "No..." Winston gasped in disbelief "Just because the party is telling us what the past is, it does not mean that the past never happened. It is still there...in documents."

 "In documents. Yes." O'Brien pondered for a moment "But the party has control of these documents. Is that not true?"

 "I.." Winston tried to fight against O'Brien's claims. He knew that he was right still, no matter what O'Brien was trying to get him to admit. "But even if you burned all of the documents, the past would still be there! You can't deny something that has already happened-"

 An even greater voltage cut him off. Winston groaned in pain.

 O'Brien's glasses shone brightly as he tilted his head "That was very foolish, Winston! Very foolish!" He looked up, as if someone else were in the room. 

 "Beat him." He ordered. 

 "No! No!" Winston cried "I have been trying to learn! I just can't keep lying. He tried to reach out an arm to take O'Brien's but he could not get out of his bonds. "Please, O'Brien. Please remember."

 O'Brien had already left the room. 

 Guards stormed in, unstrapping Winston and then throwing kicks and punches to him, even using a truncheon. Winston struggled to crawl away but there were far too many of them. The beatings seemed to last for an eternity, until finally they had left him alone. 

 Winston did not see O'Brien as he lay in the bed, getting his wounds treated and being checked to see if he had any broken bones. It felt as though one part of him had been cut out and all that was left was a large, gaping hole that would only be filled again if O'Brien were by his side. He knew that O'Brien had not been entirely honest to him. Something in his demeanor had changed. He was being extra tough on him, yet only one reason could explain it. 

 He pushed the thought out of his mind and drifted into a long, dreamless sleep. 

 Over and over again, Winston drifted between beatings, interrogations and recovery. He thought that O'Brien would come to his aid, yet the man was still absent. It was possible that he had chosen to leave him, for he did not have any feelings anymore, yet this would have made interrogating him easier. 

 Winston sighed. Nothing had made sense. He was still made to confess several times, shouted to believe anything the party told him, and while he had done as he was told, he was becoming cleverer. Doublethink. If the party said that two and two made five, then he would agree, but deep within him, there was the truth. He never wanted to think about it too much however, in fear that the Thought police behind the telescreens would detect it all. He was going to be careful.

 

 Against his expectations, O'Brien had arrived into his room. He looked at him for a long time before speaking. 

 "You told me something, Winston. You told me, the last time I had seen you that I had to remember. What is it?"

 The dial was still there, but Winston chose to ignore it. He glared at O'Brien bitterly through swollen eyes "No matter how many times the party will force me to believe that something never happened, I will never change my mind. I can remember, O'Brien. I remember the night we spent together. I remember the song you sung to me-"

 "Enough!" O'Brien roared. His hand was quick to touch the lever and sure enough Winston received another shock. "You are insane. Nothing had happened. Do you understand? Nothing. We are using methods to make you sane. Nothing more." 

 "Y-you sang to me...." Winston trembled "You sang to me as we were together." 

 "Your condition is much worse than we thought." O'Brien responded, turning up the voltage. Winston clenched his hands against the arms of the chair, biting his tongue to stop himself from screaming. Once he had let go, Winston was still determined to play at him. 

 "Under the Spreading Chestnut Tree..." Winston began softly 

 "Stop this at once. " O'Brien's usually stoic face turned to one of rage. But that did not stop his prisoner. The party was not going to break him. He would rather die than to let them get into his head completely. 

 "...I sold you and you sold me..." Winston continued weakly. He could feel tears filling his eyes, knowing more than anything that he could not give up. O'Brien _had_ to remember.

 O'Brien continued to increase the pain, yet the hand holding the lever shook. Did the Inner Party member want to do this at all? The robotic movements that Winston was so used to seeing had become far more uncertain. 

 "There lie they, and here lie we..." Winston persisted, even as O'Brien tried to shock him again. Tears fell from his eyes as he writhed in agony "Under the spreading chestnut...Tree." 

 The lever was all covered in perspiration. O'Brien was no longer standing back there. He was in front of Winston, so close that their noses were touching. And then it happened. 

 The serious, no-nonsense interrogator had succumbed. In all of his frenzy, he pushed the chair down, pinning Winston to the floor. Winston could feel O'Brien's lips against his, gasping as the other man bit down on them. It was as if he had lost all control. The kisses were rough and deliberate but Winston could not pull away. Even if he had not been strapped to the chair, he had still desired this. Between kisses, O'Brien's hand went in his hair, tugging it as he whispered all sorts of endearments. But then his movements became gentler and a hand brushed away his tears. 

 "I can't.." He said finally, pulling away. "No..no..." He buried his face in his hands, not wanting Winston to see his eyes. 

 "We can do this." Winston said, getting more confident by the minute "I know you feel for me. Please, do not try to hide it. I love you too. I want to be with you, more than ever. Julia does not matter to me anymore."

 O'Brien put his hands down to look at him with red rimmed eyes. Never, did anyone have such an effect on him. All of that control that the party had ingrained into his head was all gone with a song and a kiss and it frightened him.  "No we cannot. I am putting my life on the line for doing this. You are defying the party and I do not want to join."

 "We can run away." Winston insisted, "I don't care for the party or Big Brother. I want _you_. Please, O'Brien, please let me go. I will take you with me. We can escape." 

 O'Brien was about to turn and walk several steps away from what could possibly be the worst act he would ever commit against the party but something stopped him. Winston laid a hand on his arm gently, just as O'Brien had done for him and the tables had finally turned. It was now he who was under Winston's influence. 

 "Even if I wished to join…" O'Brien said in a quieter voice "What hope is there for us to be together? We could be killed or vaporised by the Thought Police. What hope is there for such love under a world that operates under scrutiny and fear? Big Brother will always be watching us, no matter what." 

 Winston shook his head. With more confidence, he was also starting to remember the things that did matter, the things he used to see in Mr Charrington's shop and how they were so far away, so different. If the past had once existed, surely it was possible for there to still be a place that was like so. Eurasia, Eastasia…what if these were not places like Oceania? What if Airstrip One was the only place that knew about Big Brother? Perhaps a moustached man on a poster had meant nothing to the rest of the world, who went on living freely like the proletarians. 

 "There are other places in the world just for us, O'Brien. You may not see them, but that is because the party has made us see things this way. Even you had been trying to make me see this way. But with me, things will be different. You don't have to be blinded by fear. We can see together." 

 O'Brien stood, paralysed by Winston's words. They had seemed too good to be true. Perhaps he was just a raving lunatic, caught up in his own delusion. But he had reminded him so much of himself in so many ways. If he were to simply ignore Winston, he would be truly alone in a place without free thought, where nobody could have such conversations with him…where there was nobody to admire him so strongly. 

 The Inner Party member's heart ached in desperation. He wanted to escape but he could only stand and listen to Winston's words, words that were so foreign but had made so much sense. Why had they made so much sense?

 Perhaps, it was because there was one part of O’Brien, which still believed him too…

 

 Epilogue:

 The next time Winston awoke, he found O'Brien standing at his side, holding a blindfold.

 "It is safe to leave now." O'Brien said. There was a look of calmness in his face "But we have to do things a little differently. "We cannot simply leave the Ministry of Love like this, so I need you to pretend just once that I will interrogate you again. Can you do that, Winston?"

 At first, Winston felt disappointed that they could not leave any other way. He did not want to be treated like a prisoner once more. But remembering how worried O'Brien was the last time they had spoken, especially about being caught, he understood. Never, would he ever see how large the Ministry of Love was on the inside, or how many feet above or below his cell was. 

 But that did not matter. If all went well, they were finally going to leave. Winston allowed O'Brien to put the blindfold back on, leaving him in darkness as they exited the premises. 

 For what had seemed like several hours, Winston sat inside some sort of mode as transportation, O'Brien at the wheel. A couple of times, he heard O'Brien breathing heavily, almost in panic. Above them, he could hear helicopters and his heart thudded anxiously in his chest. Winston had wanted to take off the blindfold, but knew that it would be far too suspicious to do so. They were silent for a while until finally the vehicle had stopped and O'Brien gently led him out, taking off the blindfold finally. 

 Winston's eyes took a while to adjust to the natural light. "Where are we?" A great field lay beyond them, but it was a place that he could not recognise. It was almost surreal. 

 "Surely, you should know, Winston." O'Brien responded. "This is the place you have been waiting for so long, is it not?"

 They continued to walk further out, leaving the motorcar behind for now. Something in Winston stirred but the feeling grew greater as the first rays of sunlight stretched out from the dark clouds, touching the distant fields. 

 It was a golden light, which seemed to illuminate everything around them. Everything was all starting to come back. Despite all of the beatings and endless interrogations, the constant propaganda that was stretched out before his eyes, there was this fantastic vision that he had desired for so long. Once, for what had seemed like such a long time ago, he had dreamt of this field, far away from the party and Big Brother. 

 "This is-"

 "Yes, Winston." O'Brien replied, smiling "This is freedom. The golden country that you had mentioned to me once before.

 Winston looked puzzled. He could barely remember ever speaking about it, but later a vision flashed into his mind where he was lying weakly on his bed, O'Brien reassuring him with a touch of the hand that everything was going to be all right. Had he mentioned it before?  He did not know. 

 "You wished for the golden country. Mumbled it in your sleep during one of the earlier days of staying in the Ministry of Love. But only I began to understand the possibility of freedom when you had confronted me for the first time." 

 He was starting to remember the dream, and the way a hand had touched him on the shoulder and made him feel so happy and safe. O'Brien must have done this several times, but this time it had felt far more genuine. 

 As they stood in the field, O'Brien placed his hand on his shoulder, causing Winston to look up into the man's sunlit lenses. Then, immersed in such beautiful golden light, they kissed before getting inside the motorcar again. They drove through the fields, in search of a home, a place to finally start anew and to live away from the life of the party. It was possible that they were going to be considerably poorer with less than adequate shelter. But they were miles away from Airstrip One where not even a newspaper shredding of Big Brother's face would exist. It was going to be struggle living there, but at least they were together.  
  


 They were finally free from control and carefree. Nothing and nobody was going to stop them or their love…in the golden country. 


End file.
